Broken Hearts and a Small Glass of Lemonade

8

2 Weeks After:

"Your arm is healing well," the doctor observes.  I blink slowly.  Healing?  They call that healing?  I'll never have it back.  "Your throat, however, is still beat up quite a bit."

"How long till it gets better?" the woman asks.  I roll my eyes.

"Can't say," the doctor replies.  "It could take up to a month to heal."

"What about her arm?"

"Another month or so.  It takes about two months in total to heal an amputation," he looks at me.  Brown eyes and a sun burnt face.  "How are you getting along, Mandy?"

I ignore him.

"It's becoming a habit," the woman says.  "She ignores all the questions."

An airy laugh from the woman.

"That's not true," I rasp out.  The looks they give me are priceless.  I turn away, smiling.

"How is therapy?" the doctor asks.  I shrug my left shoulder.  "She tells me you're quite exciting."

A cold laugh.  This time, from me.  "I hate it."

A cough.  An even louder cough.  A pat on my left shoulder.  Emptiness as the doctor pulls the woman out into the hall.  A spinning chair behind a mahogany desk.  A memory.

Riley leaning handsomely on his father's desk.  Telling me to sit down so he can massage my shoulders.  The comfortable atmosphere when he starts to dig his thumbs into my shoulders.  The chair spinning when I jump up.  His father standing in the room.

"Mandy," the woman calls.  I shake my head.  The memories are gone.  The scooting of a chair as I get up.  The woman saying goodbye to the doctor.  A cold look, given by me.  A small smile, given by the doctor.